Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
O you who slipped into the silence of nights,
A mind unbroken by the weight of storms,
You carried politics as wisdom—
Not a blade of treachery, nor a mask of deceit.
You stood firm within the raging winds,
A compass when words lost their way,
A Speaker whose presence held a nation
Within the gravity of thought.
O Ali Larijani… even language mourns you,
And reason weeps among the living,
You did not die—
You became a path resisting the dark.
They betrayed… yet betrayal is not new,
History bears witness without mercy,
Since the days the innocent were slain,
And light dimmed in the faces of men.
Even prophets were not spared betrayal,
So how could a statesman be?
This is Abraham cast into the blazing fire,
Yet flames roared around him in vain,
And this is Christ—against whom they conspired,
Falsehood masking truth in blinded minds,
And a prophet slain in the silence of night,
Not by justice—but by betrayal’s hand,
And the noble Prophet—poison placed before him,
Treachery hidden in bread and offering,
Thus history is written with the tears of prophets,
And injustice flows endlessly through its pages.
When conscience is traded in their markets,
Death becomes their language and destiny.
They call it assassination… yet fail to see
That one who plants thought never dies,
Truth remains though its bearers fall—
Like light that lives beyond the torch.
O nation that weeps for men yet forgets
That men are principles walking among us,
Not every office elevates its holder—
But some men turn offices into mountains.
Go… for history has carved your name in time,
And people remember what truly endures,
And those who have wronged shall come to know
The fate that awaits beyond deception.
